User:Old Dickens: Difference between revisions

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(Death and what comes next)
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==Verse==
'''W'''hat if the stories were true? What if there really were [[Vampires]] and [[Werewolves]] and [[Wizards]] and [[Witches]] who really could turn you into a toad, or make you think they had? Suppose [[Samuel Vimes|Nick]] and [[Sybil Ramkin|Nora]] {{wp|Nick_and_Nora_Charles|Charles}} were the most powerful couple in the country...


A small black figure in a large black hat sets out across the graphite-black sands of the desert. He carries a Death's Head stick and strolls rather than strides. He appears to be talking; occasionally there are hand gestures. When we see him again, he is accompanied by a small group of other pilgrims as an Ephebian philosopher with students. Now and then some these fall to the ground flailing like madmen, or holding their stomachs and shaking. They soon rise and hasten to catch up, however, seemingly none the worse. As the group progresses toward the distant mountains it swells to a sea of figures that seems too wide too hear the center, but it remains coherent as it climbs the mountains.
There is a story that the world is a disc borne on the backs of [[World Elephant|four elephants]] which stand on the carapace of an enormous [[Great A'Tuin|turtle]]. In one corner of the Multiverse (the one farthest from ''Reality'') this, too, is true. This is where the [[Narrative Causality|story]] creates the history and a one-in-a-million chance turns up nine times out of ten and the ocean falls into space around the [[rim]] without depleting itself. On the [[Discworld (world)|Discworld]], "what if?" must be answered, the stories lived, the myth made real.


On the other side of the mountains, which aren't so high or far away on a cosmic scale, there is a shorter procession to a house in the countryside. The small black figure goes in, shuts the door and sits down in front of a glowing screen. The rest of the crowd disperses to where they are supposed to be and inside there is a faint clickety-clack. On the glowing screen appear the words: "Well, I'm back."
Tales from this remote universe arrived regularly via [[Inspiration Particles|inspiration particles]] intercepting the particularly receptive and talented brain of [[Terry Pratchett|Sir Terry Pratchett, OBE]]. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to sort, file and illuminate the elements of these chronicles in this little corner of the vast library of [[L-space]]. Just don't forget your ball of string.


== ==
Terry once told us that he had received letters from the terminally ill saying that they hoped he had got Death right; these would cause him to sit and stare at the wall for some time. I hope he got him right too.


 
==Chorus==
''(Written one gloomy evening years ago. I never expected to need it; wish I didn't.)''
'''I''' sometimes sit and laugh giddily at the mere existence of some Pratchett characters (Carrot Ironfoundersson, say) and the reality he created out of the absurd stereotype. This is often toward the end of the bottle of wine, but still, it suggests how he's different from other writers I have followed. There are now more than a thousand [[:Category:Discworld characters|Discworld characters]] described here, and that's not all.




Revision as of 02:00, 17 March 2015

Verse

What if the stories were true? What if there really were Vampires and Werewolves and Wizards and Witches who really could turn you into a toad, or make you think they had? Suppose Nick and Nora Charles were the most powerful couple in the country...

There is a story that the world is a disc borne on the backs of four elephants which stand on the carapace of an enormous turtle. In one corner of the Multiverse (the one farthest from Reality) this, too, is true. This is where the story creates the history and a one-in-a-million chance turns up nine times out of ten and the ocean falls into space around the rim without depleting itself. On the Discworld, "what if?" must be answered, the stories lived, the myth made real.

Tales from this remote universe arrived regularly via inspiration particles intercepting the particularly receptive and talented brain of Sir Terry Pratchett, OBE. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to sort, file and illuminate the elements of these chronicles in this little corner of the vast library of L-space. Just don't forget your ball of string.


Chorus

I sometimes sit and laugh giddily at the mere existence of some Pratchett characters (Carrot Ironfoundersson, say) and the reality he created out of the absurd stereotype. This is often toward the end of the bottle of wine, but still, it suggests how he's different from other writers I have followed. There are now more than a thousand Discworld characters described here, and that's not all.




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Made a sysop for the many good contributions --Sanity 01:34, 19 August 2006 (CEST)

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